Penny For Your Thoughts
by pumpkin-patch
Summary: All action results from thought, so it is thoughts that matter. -Sai Baba. Random one-shots and drabbles regarding the characters of NCIS. Contains spoilers.
1. Jealousy

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS. I gain no profit from this story.**

_Author's Note: This is the beginning of a series of one-shots/drabbles on various themes/topic. Sometimes they will be related, other times they won't. I hope you enjoy!!_

_**Warning: Contains spoilers for season 6.**  
_

Tony DiNozzo had never been the type to really get jealous. Sure, sometimes he got a little envious over McGee's car, but that was about it. But something about Michael Rivkin just set him over the edge.

Ever since he'd seen that photo on Ziva's desk, he'd just had a feeling that there was more to him than she let on. And then, to have him involved in the LA case... well, that certainly did nothing to help better Tony's original impression of him. In fact, if anything, it'd made him dislike the man. So, it was only natural that Tony got jealous when Abby told him that Michael had been Ziva's partner in Mossad. After all, he'd gotten used to the idea of Ziva being his partner. Even thinking about her working with someone else, even someone like McGee, was enough to make him a bit edgy.

Tony was willing to let this whole Michael deal go, so long as it never got brought up again. Michael was Mossad, and Tony and Ziva were NCIS. All things considered, the chances of their paths crossing ever again were probably rather slim, pending Vance and his toothpick didn't find a reason to send Ziva back to Israel, or, God forbid, bring Michael to the US. But no. Michael had to go and make a pit stop in DC when he was supposed to be flying back to Israel.

That just wasn't going to fly.

As far as Tony was concerned, Ziva was Tony's partner, and no one else's. He wasn't possessive of her, but he was most certainly protective, and for some reason, Tony had a feeling this Rivkin guy was trouble. Call it a gut feeling, if you will. Of course, it didn't help that he'd gotten involved in their investigation, began murdering their suspects and was the leader of a terrorist cell. Generally speaking, that was a pretty bad track record. If Michael somehow got Ziva in trouble, there was going to be hell to pay, not just from Tony, but probably also from Gibbs, who (as far as Tony knew) told Michael to get out of the US and stay out.

Sitting at his desk,Tony looked up from his paperwork across the bullpen. Ziva was sitting there, looking completely engrossed in what she was doing. As her phone went off, Tony couldn't help but to feel a pang in his gut as he watched her open it and read what had to be a text from Michael.

Tony DiNozzo generally wasn't a jealous man. But Michael Rivkin had caused all of that to change.


	2. Technology

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS. I gain no profit from these stories.**

"Stupid, stupid... Argh!"

Loud shouts of Hebrew began to fill the bullpen as Ziva began shaking her computer monitor and banging her fist down on the keyboard. This wasn't the first time her computer had done this to her. In fact, this was the fourth time this week.

"Mossad uses Mac," she muttered under her breath. "NCIS uses Windows. Why would NCIS use an inferior computer?"

"Something bothering you, Zee-vah?" Tony asked as he walked into the bullpen, 30 minutes late as usual.

"I think my computer has a... what is the word you Americans use?" She had the word on the tip of her tongue as she began snapping her fingers, searching for it. "A witch? Ditch? ...Bitch?"

"I believe the word you are searching for is 'glitch,' Ziva," Tony told her. Ziva waved him off. American English was so strange and unorganized as it was. Why they felt the need to throw random and strange words in it still befuddled her.

"I cannot reach McGee because he is currently helping Abby, who is also currently having computer problems. Ducky offered to perform an autopsy on my computer when I finally killed it. And Gibbs told me to restart it, which I have... seven different times!"

As her computer began making strange noises, Ziva once more resumed assaulting the machine, causing her to earn several strange looks from various agents around the bullpen. Tony, unable to take it anymore, pulled out his cellphone.

"McGee! Ziva's on the brink of murdering her computer! Yes, Elf Lord, she has tried restarting it... seven different times! … Look McUseless, she's about to murder the computer, so if you don't want to see one of your precious machines go six feet under I suggest you get up here!"

Snapping his phone shut, Tony turned towards the still frustrated Israeli, walking towards her desk.

"McComputer will be up here in a few minutes. Said he couldn't stand the thought of you killing one of his precious machines." Ziva shook her head.

"I believe killing this... _thing_ would actually do some good. Then I could maybe get a computer that _works_!"

"Ziva, your computer works just fine," McGee argued, walking over to them. "It just has its... quirks like everyone else's does." He sat down behind her desk and began typing furiously. "It looks like you're running two anti-virus softwares at the same time, which could be causing the glitch... but you have loads of spyware and viruses on your computer?" He looked up at her, confusion written all over his face. "Ziva, how on Earth did you manage to do this? Don't you scan your computer on a regular basis?"

"I do not know. At Mossad, we use Mac, therefore security is not as big of an issue as it is here." McGee sighed, shaking his head. Already he knew it was going to be a long day. As he went to work correcting all of the problems that had somehow managed to end up on Ziva's computer, Tony and Ziva walked out of the bullpen with the intent of going on a coffee run.

"Think that'll keep him busy for a while?" Tony asked. Ziva nodded.

"Tony, I may be slightly illiterate when it comes to technology, but if there is one thing I can do, it is completely mess it up and then kill it in a way no one expects." As the elevator doors slid shut, a look of panic shot across Tony's face.

"You are never touching my computer, ever again."


	3. Dancing

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. I gain no profit from this story.**

**_Warning: Contains spoilers. Read at your own risk._  
**

They'd been dancing around each other ever since that day in the elevator. The performance was nearly flawless with intricate choreography. It wasn't just each other they were dancing around, though. They were also dancing around their own desires... the agency... reality. Despite their perfect performances, there was one problem- both were dancing difference dances.

Tony had taken to the tango, a passionate dance. He wasn't dancing for love, though. Instead, he was searching for knowledge. His never ending quest for the truth was driving him mad. First it was Michael Rivkin, then it was the war game, and then it went back to Michael Rivkin again. The way he saw it, though, the agency was his dance floor, and the various resources in it could be seen as his partner. He led them around in an intricate, but sometimes jerky pattern. He was careful, but at the same time, it could be said that he was reckless. Tony skirted by authorities and managed to get close to his goal, only to have it end tragically.

Ziva was dancing ballet, a perfect style for her. Her acting was flawless, her moves graceful. Where Tony seemed to barge through, demanding information, Ziva skirted around her resources, only using them when necessary. When her fellow danseur came in from Israel, she welcomed him warmly, inviting him to be part of her performance. As Tony danced boldly, showing off at times, Ziva's was more subtle, with smaller moves that were equally important.

Like every great performance, though, theirs had to come to an end. The curtain fell when Michael Rivkin was killed. When he died, Tony's tango for knowledge had been finished; as far as he was concerned, he'd found the truth. Ziva's ballet ended in tragedy, and she knew that she'd no longer be able to flit around the outside, remaining just out of reach. She would have to answer not only to Gibbs, but also to her father.

Soon, the two dancers would find out how they did... how clean their technique was... how well the judges like the performance. Until then, though, they would both stand off to the side, chests heaving with an exhaustion only they could understand. They wouldn't stay still for too long, though. Soon enough, another situation would arise, and they would once again be dancing. Perhaps this time, though, the style would be different. Perhaps this time, they'd actually partner up with each other.

Perhaps this time, the performance would be together and they would shine on the stage that was NCIS.


	4. Dynamics

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS. I gain no profit from this story.**

_Author's Note: Hi there. This little one-shot is my view on the NCIS team and the dynamics seen played out in it. I am merely speculating about the character's pasts, and indeed, this might be a little AU (though I hope it isn't). This does contain spoilers for the Season 6 finale, so if you haven't watched it, then I strongly suggest you stop reading now. Also, fans of Kate Todd may take some offense to some of the views presented in this piece. Just a warning to you. Hope you enjoy!_

During his time in law enforcement, Tony DiNozzo had been partnered up with many different people, and Jethro Gibbs had worked with many different teams. Each man brought their own unique experiences to the table, and perhaps that was what made that team work together so well. Unfortunately, with their line of work, they were all to aware of the forces that were able to pull teams and partnerships apart.

Gibbs had first been made aware of this during his time spent as a Marine. He'd seen many of his buddies killed in combat, and watched even more be assigned to different platoons, companies and even different departments as they rose in rank. Then he came to NCIS and became part of a new team. True, it didn't have quite the camaraderie of the Marine units he'd been attached to, but he enjoyed the different types of friendship it helped him gain. Of course, like any other team he was on, Gibbs knew that this one would break up at some point, and indeed it did, giving Gibbs the chance to lead his own one.

It was in the process of attempting to form a new team that Gibbs ran across Tony DiNozzo, a cocky but streetwise cop from Baltimore. While Gibbs himself wasn't a big fan of DiNozzo's attitude, he was impressed by his background and was willing to give him a try. And indeed, DiNozzo proved his worth, leading Gibbs to add him to his team.

All things considered, Gibbs was probably the first "partner" DiNozzo had worked with who somewhat cared about him. Mind you, Gibbs wasn't one to go out of his way to make sure that DiNozzo was OK, but he made sure that DiNozzo knew that if he needed help, Gibbs was the one to come to. In fact, the two men ended up getting rather close for what was considered a partnership. Like everything, though, this too had to change, and soon Kate Todd was thrown into the mix.

Sure, Tony had like Kate, and so had Gibbs. But they both knew that there was something about her that just didn't mesh well with the team dynamic. The two men both tried to ignore it; it was probably just some weird thing they had about letting someone new into their midst. After all, they had worked together by themselves for a long time now. Adding someone new into the mix was bound to shake things up. So, they decided to bide their time, and see how things worked out.

And then Timothy McGee showed up. Right away, Tony took a liking to the younger man, not for his personality or even for his skills, but just for the sake that he was someone Tony could pick on and get away with it. While Tony filled the annoying older brother role, Gibbs took a more serious one, coaching the new special agent through everything and gradually honing the younger agent's skills into what he needed. And eventually, McGee fell into his niche in the team nicely. Whereas Gibbs did a majority of the interrogations and got the confessions they needed, Tony worked with the people, tracking down leads and taking statements while McGee worked forensics and helped Tony track down leads when he hit a dead end.

This is not to say, though, that there weren't other influencing factors in their team dynamic. Indeed, Ducky and Abby played key roles, one serving as a mentor of sorts and the other being the bearer of good news in a work environment that was otherwise rather dark. Their roles were vital, no doubt about that, but they affected the core four less than they affected each other.

Tony couldn't lie- he was greatly disturbed when Kate was killed. However, he also wasn't surprised. Even if she hadn't died, somehow she would've left NCIS for something different. And while Gibbs blamed himself for what happened, he knew that she would've probably left at some point. It wasn't how he would've preferred to see her go. In fact, it was the most heartbreaking way to see her leave. But even Gibbs understood the raging, shifting winds that molded their team, and he knew he couldn't tame them.

Thus entered Ziva David, a headstrong and slightly scary Mossad Officer. She immediately gained Gibbs's trust after saving him from Ari, and eventually became Tony's partner of choice. It was an unlikely pairing, a Mossad Officer and a NCIS Special Agent, but they made it work. True, they both had their flaws, but it seemed like where one was weak, they other was able to pick up the slack. Even during the toughest of times, they managed to pull through. If there ever was one, Tony and Ziva were the go to team in NCIS, and Gibbs was proud to be their leader. In fact, there was only one thing that could pull them apart- mistrust.

Tony had danced a fine line during his undercover operation dealing with Jeanne, and he knew he'd caused Ziva a great deal of distress both during and immediately after it. However, she too caused her partner stress upon her return from Israel after Vance split their team up. Between all the calls in Hebrew and the picture found on her desk, Tony didn't know what to think of what could be happening in his partner's life. It didn't help when that person in the photo ended up coming to the US and killing a NCIS agent before defying orders from The Boss. And then, to have this man attack him... well, if there was anything to make Tony mistrust his partner, than that was probably it. After all, not only had she omitted important details regarding her relationship with the man in the photo, but she had also blamed Tony for his death and possibly put the entire team in danger.

Therefore, it was not a surprise to Tony that Ziva had decided to remain in Israel after they visited Tel Aviv to attempt to sort that mess out. It didn't even really surprise Gibbs when she'd approached him on the airstrip. All things considered, he'd been watching the partnership fall apart for a long time now. He'd even come to the conclusion that while Tony's undercover operation may have been somewhat of a catalyst, the real unraveling began after Jenny Shepherd's death, with DiNozzo questioning his actions and Ziva questioning DiNozzo's judgment, or lackthereof as she saw it.

Gibbs couldn't deny it, though. He too felt betrayed by Ziva, just like Tony had, though for a different reason. While Tony was upset that his partner was mad at him for doing his job and protecting himself, as well as withholding important information regarding their cases, Gibbs was more upset that Ziva hadn't told him about Mossad operations in the US. She was his agent, therefore she was supposed to answer his questions with as much detail as possible.

Like every team, though, Gibbs knew this one would end up falling apart somehow, with one agent or another leaving. And like every partnership he'd been in, Tony knew that this one would have to end at some point. After all, that's how everything in NCIS worked out.

As Tony shut his phone, Gibbs walked over to his desk and sat down. Both agents cast a nostalgic look over at the now empty desk that Ziva had so recently occupied. As their gaze returned to each other, both men knew what the other was thinking.

The end of this partnership and team was inevitable. But it also hurt like hell.

And this one probably hurt the most.


	5. Man's Best Friend

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. I gain no profit from this story.**

_Author's note: Thanks to everyone who's written a review for this story! They really make my day!!_

_This little one-shot is just an amusing one that came into my head while I was throwing the ball for my own dog earlier today. Seeing as they've never really given a follow-up to "Dog Tags," I think this is fitting. Hope you enjoy!!!  
_

Something clicked on the floor behind him, and Timothy McGee sighed. He'd recognize that sound anywhere. Standing up, he walked to the door and grabbed the leash that was hanging by it. He then reached down and clipped it to Jethro's collar.

This was what always happened. Every night, McGee would sit down, ready to start working on his next book, and then Jethro would decide that he needed to go outside and do his business, effectively damming up any creative juices McGee had flowing. What was worse about this night, though, was the thunderstorm McGee could hear rolling in.

As Jethro sniffed around, McGee stood there, impatient.

"C'mon, Jethro, hurry up!" he said. The German Shepherd cast him and indignant look and returned to what he was doing. Raindrops began to fall, and it was just as the massive downpour began that Jethro decided to do his business. As a soaking wet McGee led and equally wet Jethro up the stairs to the apartment, he silently cursed his luck. He would get stuck with a dog that was out to ruin his life.

"Remind me to get back at Abby for pinning me with you," he muttered as they entered the apartment. McGee headed into his bedroom and got changed before he walked out into the kitchen. Jethro followed, and then promptly began to shake.

"Awww, come on!" McGee yelled, trying to shield himself from the assault of water. Jethro, looking pleased with himself, walked over to his bed and laid down. McGee shook his head and flopped down on his couch, turning on his TV in a vain attempt to have a semi-normal night. No sooner than he began to get into the show he was watching, though, Jethro began to growl. A familiar smell began seeping through the walls, and McGee swore under his breath.

_Damn those neighbors!_ He thought as Jethro began to bark. Getting up, he opened his door and walked over to the neighbors. He knocked politely several times. When his neighbors didn't answer, he went back to his apartment, grabbed his badge from his coat and then went to the door again.

"Federal agent! Open up!"

Muffled curses came from the other side of the door, and after a few moments, his neighbor opened it. The smell of burning marijuana wafted into the hallway, causing Jethro to bark even more. McGee held up his ID.

"Hi there. NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee. I live over there." He pointed to his door, where scratching noises were now coming from. "You smoking habits are driving my dog, and me, insane."

His neighbor crossed his arms, not looking convinced.

"Oh yeah? Well, that sounds like your problem if your dog doesn't like cigarette smoke." McGee chuckled some.

"My dog is a former drug dog for the Marines. He responds to marijuana, not cigarettes." McGee gave his neighbor a cocky smirk. "Now, you can either stop smoking pot in your apartment, or I can make a call to one of my many friends in Metro and we'll let them settle this."

Immediately his neighbor straightened up and nodded.

"Won't happen again."

McGee smiled, pleased with the outcome.

"Have a good, drug-free night." He turned and walked back to his apartment, where he nearly got knocked over by Jethro's vain attempts to get out and find the source of the smell.

Later that night, McGee rolled over in his bed after turning the lamp out. He had a long day ahead of him tomorrow, seeing as the team was working on cold cases all day unless they got called out. Just as his mind began to drift off, whines and scratching noises came from the other side of his door. Sighing, McGee got up and opened the door, and Jethro came running in. He jumped up on the bed and proceeded to curl up on the other side. McGee crawled back in the bed, only to begin a battle for control of the bed.

Two hours later, both McGee and Jethro were sound asleep. McGee was hanging half off the bed in a position that was most certainly going to give him a massive back ache the next day. Jethro, however, had managed to maneuver himself into a position where he took up most of the large bed.

Indeed, McGee did wake up with a sore back the next day, and Jethro continued his annoying ways throughout the evening. Whether he was willing to admit it, though, McGee was beginning to rely on these rituals. In a life that was otherwise crazy, his interaction with Jethro was the only thing that remained the same. Jethro would do everything he could to annoy McGee, and McGee would end up grudgingly putting up with all of Jethro's antics. It was Ok, though. McGee could handle this.

Later that night, when he sat on the couch scratching a for once calm Jethro behind the ears, McGee couldn't help but to smile. Despite everything that Jethro put him though, McGee knew he'd never be able to get rid of the dog. He loved him too much. In fact, McGee actually looked forward to coming home every day just to see Jethro.

Smiling some, McGee let his hand rest on Jethro's chest.

Perhaps dog was man's best friend after all.


	6. No Good Deed

**_A/N: The title and some of the lines in this oneshot are from the musical "Wicked." The song 'No Good Deed' was somewhat of an inspiration for this, and it loosely follows the flow of the song. Also, there is a section from an episode of NCIS._**

**_There is a section of Hebrew in this oneshot. It is supposed to be the Kaddish, or Jewish Prayer of Mourning. I sincerely apologize if I did the prayer wrong; I was working with the sources I could find on the internet. Feel free to let me know if I messed it up.  
_**

**_My apologies for the lack of an update. I hope you enjoy this. There are spoilers from "Angel of Death" and "Bury Your Dead."_**

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, nor do I own Wicked. NCIS and Wicked belong to CBS/Donald Bellisario and Gregory McGuire/Stephen Schwartz respectively. No profit is derived from this piece of fanfiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
**

"Tony."

The name was spoken softly, but inside, Ziva was screaming. She hadn't just seen what she saw, had she? His car... he'd just...

_'TONY!'_

Trying to calm herself down, Ziva silently began praying. Normally, she wasn't very religious, but certain circumstances called for certain measures. She knew Gibbs was going to rally the team soon and send them to the scene of the crime. Turning on her heel, she walked quickly out of MTAC and bee-lined to the women's bathroom. Pacing around quickly, Ziva tried to calm herself down.

"It was not him... he was not hurt."

Ziva continued her pacing, running her hands through her hair. There was no way this could've happened. There was absolutely no way!

"_Yit'gadal v'yit'kadash sh'mei raba_ _b'al'ma di v'ra khir'utei_ _v'yam'likh mal'khutei b'chayeikhon uv'yomeikhon uv'chayei d'khol beit yis'ra'eil ba'agala uviz'man kariv v'im'ru-"_

Breaking off mid-sentence, Ziva whipped around and slammed her hand against the paper towel dispenser. What good did her praying do if her partner was already dead? Obviously it was too late for any divine intervention. And it was way too late for her to save him. She'd tried to call him. Her version of Gibbs' "Gutt" was telling her that something was wrong... that Tony was in trouble. Yet, eventually she'd gotten disgusted with her partner and given up. And now, Tony had become yet another name on her long list of mistakes made. She considered it yet another contribution of hers to things that went wrong in the world.

Was it her fault, though? Hadn't she done all she could've done to reach him? After all, she didn't know about his cover ID. How was she supposed to know about something that was being headed by the Director?

She shook her head as she slid down the wall, coming to a seated position. Placing her head in her hands, she shook them. This was typical. Every time she tried to help someone, it ended up backfiring on her. What was that phrase she'd heard before... no good deed goes unpunished?

"Tali... Roy Sanders... Tony..."

A shuddering sob attempted to rip through her, and she clenched her hands tightly.

"_Tony!_"

She couldn't help to wonder, though, if she'd actually been trying to help these people... help Tony. Or perhaps, had she used them as a way to prove herself to the team. In the end, she assumed that it depended on the person who was looking at the situation.

Standing up, Ziva wiped away her stray tears, making herself presentable once more. Gibbs was probably looking for her, ready to process the scene as possible.

* * *

_Ziva slammed her cellphone down once more, frustrated with the entire situation. Why was it that he never picked up his phone when it was most important? Ducky gave her a confused look, and Ziva shook her head._

_'Tony, where are you?' she wondered silently. 'Already dead, or bleeding?You promised you'd be here!'_

"_I have a funny feeling doctor," she told him._

_"It's the tequila, my dear," he reasoned. "You've had three Shooters just in the time I've been here." _

_Ziva shook her head, casting a disgusted look at her cellphone._

_"Straight to voice mail just like always when he's with her."  
_

"_Tony?"  
_

"_What?"_

_There was a slight pause. Then Ducky spoke again.  
_

"_Nothing." Ziva let out a low chuckle, shaking her head once more.  
_

"_Oh, no, no, no. That was definitely something."  
_

"_Well, why do you monitor Tony?"  
_

_Ziva furrowed her brow some._

"_I don't monitor Tony."  
_

"_Yes, you do, my dear. Like a mother with a toddler."_

_She couldn't help but to be amused. It did fit their partnership.  
_

"_That's a good description."  
_

"_Or a woman with a wayward lover."_

"_Ducky, do not profile me. I am not a killer." She paused. "Correction. I have killed before, but never feloniously."_

"_Ziva, it's Friday night. Tony is with his girlfriend, and you are worried about him. What does that tell you?"_

"_He is my partner and my partner said he would be here, and..."_

_Ziva paused, letting her sentence drop off some._

"_And I have this not so good feeling."_

* * *

The truck jerked to a stop, and Ziva was broken from her thoughts. Silently, the team began to process the crime scene. Ziva snapped on her gloves and approached the car, a camera hanging from her neck. The stench of burnt flesh filled the air, and Ziva's stomach rolled some.

"Do you believe in miracles?" McGee asked, breaking the silence that had enveloped them for so long. Ziva looked up at the younger NCIS agent, and for a moment, she felt pity for him. Oh, to be so naïve that she'd think that there was the possibility that he survived.

Turning away from him, she wiped the soot and burnt debris off of Tony's NCIS badge and looked at his ID. This was the last time she'd ever try to help someone... ever get emotionally involved with work. Never again would she feel pain like this. Never again would she pay for letting her guard down. From here on out, she would be a... how would Tony put it? And Ice Princess? Ice Queen?

_'Since I could not save you, Tony, I shall learn from my mistake. Never again will I become close to another coworker.'_

"Not part of my training."


	7. The Case of Petty Officer Pastry

_**A/N: This is a quick attempt at a film noir sort of scene. I make no promises of quality. Also, this is just a quick, short humor piece. It's not meant to take place in any certain point in the series.**_

_**A thousand thank-yous to everyone who's reviewed! They truly make my day!!! :)**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS. It is owned by CBS/Donald Bellisario. No profit is derived from this piece of fiction, nor is any copyright infringement intended.  
**

I looked at the suspect, sitting across the table from him. He seemed nervous... as if he had something to hide. I was bound and determined to learn why. No one could get anything by me.

"You seem nervous," I told him. "Any reason why?"

He shook his head.

"I just don't like interrogation, that's all," he replied. "Besides, you'd be nervous if you'd just been pulled from your work and brought down here."

He had a good point. Most people didn't like being taken from their work. But there had to be more to it. Feelings were never as simple as that. He had to be hiding something.

"One of your friends was killed recently," I told him, flipping a manila file open. "Petty Officer Pastry. Witnesses put you around the crime scene at the time of death."

"Of course I'd be near the crime scene at the time of death," the suspect argued. "I work in the same building as him!"

It was another good point. His name had been on a desk near the crime scene. But was it a coincidence that they worked in the building? Or had it been planned?

"Our forensic scientist is currently running the evidence we found at the scene of the crime. Abby... you remember her, right? Of course you do. You met her the last time we hauled you in here for interrogation." I gave him a smirk. "You got away last time, but not now. We've got plenty of circumstantial evidence to tie you to the scene. If you fess up now, we might convince the jury to go easy on you."

The suspect sighed, obviously fed up with the situation. He rubbed his temples and seemed to be attempting to remain calm. This was good. I was getting through to him.

"Where were you this morning at 0900?"

"I was at my desk, defragging my computer!"

"Can anyone prove you were there?"

"You were there! You saw me! So did The Boss!"

I slammed my fist down on the table, making the suspect jump.

"Tell the truth! You killed him, didn't you?"

"I didn't kill him!" the suspect shouted, pushing himself to his feet. He immediately calmed down, realizing the err of his ways as soon as I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I didn't kill him," he repeated, sitting down once more. "But, I may know who killed him."

I cocked an eyebrow. Was he really going to give up a fellow suspect?

"Really?" I asked. "And who might that be?"

"Look, you didn't hear this from me, but I saw one of my coworkers head towards the break room at around 0900. It could've been-"

The door to interrogation swung open, and both the suspect and I jumped at the sound.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked. "Stop interrogating McGee over your missing jelly doughnut and get your asses up to the bullpen! We've got a body!"

McGee stood up and walked out of the interrogation room, a thankful look on his face.

"Finally!" he breathed.

"But Boss," I cried, running after them, "he was just about to tell me his accomplice!"

Gibbs stopped and looked at me, and exasperated look on his face.

"Tony, whenever your doughnut goes missing, it's Ziva that's eaten it. I thought you would've realized that by now."

I stared at him in disbelief. All of a sudden, he reached up and slapped me upside the back of the head.

"And that's for using the interrogation room for something stupid."


	8. Positive

_**A/N: Inspiration for this one-shot comes from the song "Tears of an Angel" by RyanDan. If you've never heard the song, I highly recommend you check it out.**_

_**Once again, thank you to everyone who reviewed! They really make my day. You really have no idea. So thanks so much!!! Hope you enjoy this little piece.**_

_**Warning: Contains spoilers for Season 2, specifically SWAK.  
**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, nor do I derive any profit from this piece of fiction. NCIS is owned by CBS and Donald Bellisario.  
**

"_You're Ok. He's not, though. The blood tests came back positive."_

Kate's stomach dropped down to her toes and then bounced back into place. For a moment, she swore that time stopped, and she resisted the urge to cover her ears. No way. This wasn't possible. Tony DiNozzo, the man who lived to annoy her, was not infected with the plague.

All the signs were there, though. The lights, the negatively pressured isolation unit, the IV in his arm... they all pointed to what the nurse had just told her.

Tony had the plague.

There was not much in this world that stunned Kate Todd, but this was one of them. Positive. She couldn't help but to find it ironic that a word that was usually so good was now so bad. There were so many good things that could be positive. Positive ID's, positive praise, hell, even a positive pregnancy test could be good under the right circumstances. But positive for _Y. Pestis_? That wasn't positive. That wasn't positive at all.

Silently, Kate racked her brain for everything she knew about the plague. The first to come to mind was the Bubonic Plague. Of course, it would be the so called "Black Death" that she'd think of first. This form was what caused all the sores... the boils. Technically, they were swollen lymph glands, but even that little tidbit of information was rather trivial right now. Generally, it led to the other two forms of the plague.

One of those forms was the Septicemic Plague. This form occurred when the infection spread and eventually, the bacteria got into the bloodstream. After this, there was only one left.

The Pneumonic Plague was an infection of the lungs. It cause pneumonia, fever, coughing and several other symptoms that she couldn't remember at the moment. She knew one thing, though. This form of the plague was more often than not, fatal.

Kate fought the urge to roll over and cry as she remembered that. At that moment, she wanted nothing more to be weak... to have someone comfort her. But she couldn't. She had to remain strong. She had to... for Tony.

It was just so hard to believe... to try and wrap her head around. There was no way it was possible... they had to be lying!

"So, tell me Doc. What have I got?" he asked.

"Pneumonic plague."

It was the second time she'd heard it in less than five minutes. Instantly, Kate noticed a change in Tony's demeanor. Was that... fear?

"Plague? Plague..."

"That's right Tony. Plague. 'Cause only you would go off and get a disease from the dark ages," Kate snapped, marching over to his bed.

"I didn't put plague in the letter." Kate rolled her eyes, crossing her arms at the ridiculousness of the situation. Was she really doing this? Certainly it had to be some strange psychological response to the news she'd just received.

"You opened it!"

"Yeah. So I opened it. What are you so upset about? It's not like your lying..."

Kate nodded.

"Yeah. That's right Travolta. I'm infected too."

"Oh Kate, I'm sorry."

She resisted the urge to say, _"me too."_ But that would give her away. So, instead, she choose to respond in an expected way.

"Yeah, well, you're going to be sorrier."

* * *

Later that day, Kate listened to the sounds of Tony's coughing from across the isolation chamber. He'd been getting worse the entire time. And he'd been scaring Kate, a normally fearless person.

Kate rolled over on to her side and squeezed her eyes shut. Reaching up, she covered her ears. This would all be over soon... it was just a dream. She'd wake up from it in three... two... one...

As she rolled over, Kate opened her eyes and uncovered her ears. Tony was still coughing, harder this time. A rare sigh escaped Kate as she looked at her partner across the chamber. Silently, she willed him to be strong... to not let go. He couldn't leave her... he just couldn't!

_I'm here,_ she thought. _I'm not leaving you. Not now. I promise._

In less than one minute, her entire life had been picked up, shaken around and then tossed upside down. Kate didn't know what to think anymore. She knew three things, though.

Tony had the plague. He was getting worse every second. And eventually, he was going to die.

Of that, she was positive.


	9. TV Show

_**A/N: This is just a goofy piece I thought of earlier in August. It's set sometime during the sixth season. Also, be warned, there is some suggestive content in this one-shot. It's nothing explicit, but I wanted to give you a heads-up anyways.**_

_**Once again, thank you to everyone who reviews!! They make my day! :)  
**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or anything related to it. NCIS belongs to CBS and Donald Bellisario. No personal profit is derived from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.  
**

Tony stopped typing and looked around, a confused look on his face. Frowning some, he peered into his webcam, then pulled out one of the drawers in his desk. Ziva looked up at the sudden ruckus.

"Is there something wrong, Tony?"

He looked up and shook his head.

"No, no... I'm fine." Ziva cocked an eyebrow.

"Are you sure? You seem as if you lost something."

Tony looked around, almost furtively, and then stood up, walking over to Ziva's desk.

"Have you ever wondered if our lives were being recorded and then broadcast to the world as a television show?"

Instantly, Ziva threw her head back in laughter, unable to contain herself. McGee pulled out his earbuds and looked over at the two agents.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"Tony believes that our lives are being recorded and broadcast as a television show!"

"I never said I believed it! I just said it was a possibility!"

By now McGee had joined in on the laughing.

"Like that movie?"

"It's called _The Truman Show_. Jim Carry, Laura Linney. Good plot. Strange but good."

Ziva stopped laughing and wiped a few tears from her eyes. Sighing, she turned to DiNozzo and shook her head some.

"No one would want to watch a TV show about your life, Tony. None of it would be interesting enough... not even the sex!"

"Hey! My life's interesting!" Tony argued. "I've got mystery, medical drama and sex appeal. None of the women would resist me."

"You are right, Tony. They would run away as soon as they saw you."

"That was a low blow, David. I'm _sure_ your life would be so much more interesting."

He rolled his eyes as Ziva placed her hands on her desk, folding them over each other.

"International espionage, occasional violence, family drama... it was what every American wants to watch." She smirked some. "Face it, Tony, my life is more interesting than yours."

Tony scowled, crossing his arms.

"I doubt your life could even get past the censors. All the blood and gore in the early part... you'd never get on television!"

Ziva pursed her lips some as she frowned. Indeed, he did have a good point. Violence, while interesting in small doses, generally did not go over well with most people.

"So, then, who's left?"

"Abby's life is to freaky," Tony commented. "All the heavy metal and forensics? Wouldn't make for good TV. And the sleeping in a coffin thing?" Tony shuddered. "Totally freaky."

"Ducky is too boring. All he does is tell long-winded stories and take care of his Corgis. Jimmy's boring too."

"He was sleeping with Lee," Tony pointed out. "That's a little bit of drama."

"But he is so... strange. As you put it, he is an little 'Autopsy Gremlin.' And speaking of autopsies, people would get grossed out by them."

"What about me?" McGee asked. The NCIS Special Agent and Mossad Officer turned simultaneously, and then began to laugh.

"McGee, you're a geek!" Tony wheezed. "All you do is mess with computers all day."

"Or write your books," Ziva added. "You do not even have an exciting sex life."

"I don't think he's even lost his virginity!"

"Guys!" McGee pouted. "I have too!"

Tony and Ziva both shook their heads.

"Face it, McGee," Tony began, "your life just isn't exciting enough for television."

"What about Gibbs. You never even mentioned him."

Tony paused, a contemplative look on his face.

"Hmmm... former Marine Sniper turned NCIS Agent... widower with a shadowy past... McLoser, you might actually be on to something."

"It would be interesting," Ziva agreed. "Especially if the writers revealed small bits of his past every now and then."

"And, because it's his life, we'd all be supporting characters," McGee concluded. "It'd be perfect."

"No one's making my life a TV show," an all to familiar voice snapped. The three agents jumped and turned to face their boss, who was now striding into the bullpen.

"Boss, we were just joking. Your life wouldn't be interesting enough, what with the boat and all..."

Tony trailed off as Gibbs leveled him with an intense stare. Slinking over to his desk, Tony sat down.

"I'm going to shut up now."

"Good idea, DiNozzo." He turned to the rest of them. "Next time someone mentions television shows, I'm going to have Vance assign to a stake out. We'll see how much you like TV then. Understood?"

The three agents nodded, all murmuring their agreement. Gibbs nodded, satisfied, and then left the bullpen. Tony looked up and cocked an eyebrow.

"Speaking of Vance, what about his life? TV material?"

"I heard that, DiNozzo!"


	10. Introduction

**_A/N: I've decided to try my hand at the whole 100 Themes thing, and this is the first theme. The themes will be the chapter titles, and they will be done in order according to the list (it can be Googled.) I'm taking a little bit of liberty with Gibbs's and DiNozzo's pasts, and I apologize if Gibbs seems a little OOC._**

**_Once again, thanks for the reviews! They make my day! Hope you enjoy this chapter!_**

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or the characters mentioned in this fanfiction. They belong to CBS and Donald Bellisario. I gain no profit from this story, nor do I mean any copyright infringement.  
**

They hadn't had the most formal of introductions. In fact, they'd probably had the least formal introduction known to man. Weathered NCIS Special Agent meets streetwise Baltimore Homicide cop... it was bound to be a bit interesting. True, the NCIS agent hadn't really liked the cop much- he seemed rather arrogant and a bit annoying. But there was something about him... something that just stuck.

Soon enough, the local LEOs turned the case over to NCIS, and the agent didn't see the cop anymore. He couldn't forget him, though. It was strange. He'd never had anyone affect him quite like that. So, when the NCIS agent found himself as the boss without a team, it was only natural that he turned to the cop... offered him a job. But, it seemed he was just too late. The cop had turned in his resignation just two weeks earlier. His last day had been the day before.

Thus, the NCIS agent began doing some digging... a bit of background checking. The cop had a good record... lots of closed cases. So, why had he left? What made him quit after just two years? Perhaps it was time he gave him a call...

* * *

"So, I heard you left the Baltimore PD earlier this week."

There was a frustrated sigh on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah. I did. What's it to you?"

The NCIS agent rubbed his forehead some.

"Remember that guy I was working with when we first met? He quit. Just left. I've gotta build my own team now."

"And...?"

"And I want you on it."

There was silence, and for a moment, the NCIS agent thought he'd been hung up on.

"Why me? I'm just some former homicide cop. Couldn't you find some Secret Service agent to work for you?"

"If they worked for the Secret Service, why would they want to come to NCIS?"

"I'm not sure I'll be a good fit, man. My sergeants hated me. I drove my partners up the wall."

The NCIS agent let out a low chuckle.

"I'm pretty sure we could work on that."

"Nah, man. I just... trust me. It wouldn't work out."

"I want you to at least consider it." He looked at his watch. "I'll give you twenty-four hours. This time tomorrow, I want an answer. Yes or no. Got it?"

"Err... sure thing."

"Great, I'll talk to you then."

* * *

"You don't give up easy, do you?"

The NCIS agent chuckled some, leaning back in his chair in the bullpen. Chatter buzzed all around him, but his own little section was eerily quiet. Of course, it'd never been very loud when it was just him and his boss. They'd both been men of few words. But this? This was just weird.

"Well, I've got a team to build. Can't sit around while petty officers are getting murdered."

"What exactly does NCIS do? Sounds to me that I'd be doing the same thing I'd been doing before."

"You would. Only difference is, you'd be doing it for the Navy and Marines."

"And why would I want to do that all over again?"

The NCIS agent didn't answer.

"Listen, man, I'm done with homicide. I've done it all my police career; it's time for something new."

"I can get you something new. I just can't tell you over the phone. Can you be at the Naval Yard in DC today?"

There was a frustrated sigh from the other end of the phone, and the NCIS agent could tell he was getting through to the cop.

"Give me three hours. I'll be there."

"You've got two."

* * *

The elevator dinged, and a tall young man with slicked back brown hair and bright, intelligent green eyes strode into the bullpen. Almost immediately, he took to checking out one of the female agent's butts, but a sharp cuff to the head broke him out of his reverie.

"Ow! Hey, what the hell was that for?"

"Staring at Special Agent Hall," a familiar voice told him. The cop looked up and saw the NCIS agent, complete with gray hair, blue eyes and typical polo, blazer and khakis. In fact, the cop was pretty sure that was the same outfit he'd been wearing at the crime scene so long ago.

The agent gestured to the cop, ushering him into his small part of the bullpen. As he sat down, he opened a large manila file.

"You've got a pretty good record, you know," he started. "Almost 100 percent close rate. Your sergeants describe you as, and I quote, 'youthful, arrogant and a womanizer, but one of the finest homicide cops on the squad.' Says here that you hold the record for fastest case solved up in Baltimore."

The cop nodded.

"Yeah, but it was nothing special. The guy was standing right there. I just got lucky."

Setting his elbows on his desk, the NCIS agent leaned forward some, looking the cop in the eye.

"You know, we could really use someone like you here. I think you could do a lot of good."

The cop shook his head in disgust.

"You had me drive all the way down here just to try to give me a job that I just left? Nuh-uh. No way. That's not happening." He stood up and started to walk away. "I'm not doing homicide again."

Just as the elevator doors opened, the NCIS agent stood up.

"Undercover work," he shouted. "You get to do undercover work."

The cop stopped. Turn around. Walked back to the desk.

"Undercover work?" he repeated. The NCIS agent nodded.

"Undercover work. You know... we give you an identity and background information and you go in and get information for us." He looked at the cop. "NCIS isn't just homicide, though that's a lot of what we do."

"What else would I get to do?"

"Intelligence work... cases regarding stolen items... drug charges... that sort of stuff." The NCIS agent looked at the cop. "We are the cops of the Navy and Marines. We do it all."

The cop nodded, crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair some.

"What do I gotta do to get into this place?"

"Well, first thing is submitting an application." The cop stared at him. "I said I wanted you on my team. I didn't say I'd write your application. I can, however, put a good word in for you."

"And if they accept my application?"

"FLETC."

"Bless you?"

"It's the 'Federal Law Enforcement Training Center.' They'll teach you the ropes... train you well."

"And then?"

"And then you work as a Probationary Officer. You get through all of that, and I've got a spot for you on my team."

There was silence between the two men, and the NCIS agent could tell the cop was seriously considering his offer. After a few moments, he sat up and looked at him.

"Where can I fill out an application?"

* * *

A few months later, the elevator dinged as the doors slid open, and an NCIS agent stepped out, a cup of coffee in his hand. He immediately bee-lined to his section of the bullpen and found a note from the director on his desk. Ascending the stairs, the agent walked into the director's office.

"Director, you wanted to see me?"

The director nodded as he closed a manila envelope. A smile crossed his face.

"I've got some good news for you."

"Really?"

"We found you an agent."

The NCIS agent nodded and gestured for the director to continue. The director motioned to a man sitting at the table in the office. He was dressed in a designer Italian suit with black pants, a white shirt, black tie and matching black jacket. His brown hair was still slicked back, but his green eyes conveyed even more knowledge than they had the first time they'd met.

"Special Agent Gibbs, allow me to introduce you to Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo."

Gibbs let an uncharacteristic smile cross his face as he held his hand out to the new NCIS agent.

"Knew you'd make the right choice, kid."

DiNozzo stood, a smile on his face as well as she shook the older agent's hand.

"It's a pleasure."

Gibbs began to stride out of the office, and then turned to the new agent once more.

"Well, what're you waiting for? You're one of us now."

DiNozzo smiled and quickly followed Gibbs down to the bullpen.

"On your six, Boss!"


	11. Love

**_A/N: I'd like to give a shout out to Hope06, Mirthless Laughter and Viktorija for the lovely reviews!! Reading them always makes my day!! Thank you guys so much!!_**

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or the characters in this story. They belong to CBS/Donald Bellisario. No personal profit is derives from this story, nor is any copyright infringement intended.  
**

It had been a long, stressful day for Leroy Jethro Jethro. From the second he heard Shannon's worried voice in the bathroom, to the moment they'd arrived at the hospital on base, he'd been on the go. During the slower moments, he paused briefly, leaving his wife's side to go outside and call his commanding officer and explain to him why he wouldn't be showing up for his duties that day. The CO had been understanding enough- after all, he'd been there, done that. He told Jethro to take the rest of the week off, and told him he didn't want to hear from him until then. Jethro thanked him profusely, and then hurried back in.

The next several hours were long... agonizingly so. Jethro tried to be patient, but at the same time, he was trying hide the fact that he was absolutely terrified. He was trying so hard to be strong for Shannon. Oh, if only he could take her place... take away her pain. Would she ever forgive him for this? Despite all the explicatives hurled at him during the most intense part, deep down, Jethro knew that she would.

Who would've thought that one tiny sound, one piercing wail, could completely rock Jethro' world? Here he was, a Marine who'd been through hell and back during boot camp and then went back for some more, and yet it was all he could do not to collapse upon hearing it. What would his buddies think if they saw him now? Surely some of them would understand; they'd been through this before. But the others? He knew they'd laugh at him.

Jethro barely noticed the doctors trying to get his attention, merely running on autopilot as his life changed forever. In just seconds, he felt like his life had been turned upside down. Was this really happening? It had to be a dream. Nothing ever changed that quickly. Nothing ever made him terrified and ecstatic at the same time.

And then the doctors handed him this little squirming bundle. Jethro was in awe of the perfection. Surely there had to be something wrong; nothing in the world could be as perfect as this. Wispy brown hair still covered in goop, long pale limbs, squirming in delight... she was perfect. Just absolutely perfect. Familiar bright blue eyes stared back at him, and he couldn't help but to smile. Turning to Shannon, he silently asked for her approval. She nodded. He was doing well.

If the bundle in his arms was perfection, then his wife couldn't be far behind. Jethro had seen her all made up on their wedding day. He'd seen her in the morning, without her "face" as she called it, and he'd seen her in the evening, looking beautiful as ever with her natural make up. And now he saw her after the hardest thing she'd ever done. Drenched with sweat, hair plastered to her face, and weariness heavy in her eyes, and Jethro thought she looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen her.

Carefully, so as to not disturb the bundle in his arms, Jethro walked over to Shannon's bedside and sat down in the chair next to it. Smiling like a boy who'd just gotten his first kiss, he scooted a little closer and took his wife's hand with his free one. As he cradled the now quiet bundle to his chest, he looked over at his wife.

"So...?"

She smiled, chuckling some.

"So what?"

"So... what're we gonna name her?"

Shannon was silent for a moment. During that time, Jethro looked back down at the bundle. She was asleep now, her lips pursed in a small pout.

"What about Vanessa, after your mother?"

Gibbs shook his head.

"No. Not Vanessa."

"Well, we can't name her Lucille after mine."

The two fell into silence again. Jethro tensed some as the bundle shifted in its sleep. Once she was still, he relaxed, letting out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

"What about Kelly?" he asked. Shannon was silent for a second, running the name through her head.

"Kelly... I like it."

Smiling, Jethro looked back down at the bundle in his arms.

"Welcome to the world, Kelly."


	12. Light

**_WARNING: THIS ONE-SHOT CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE SEASON 7 PREMIERE. IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN IT YET, I HIGHLY RECOMMEND YOU REFRAIN FROM READING THIS._**

**_A/N: Now that that's out the way... yes, I'm back with a new one-shot for you guys. I finally got around to watching the premiere just a few minutes ago, and was instantly inspired to write this. "The Guardian Suite" by Trevor Rabin also helped inspire this piece as well. Once again, thank you to everyone who's favorited/alerted/commented on this series of one-shots. It makes my day!! The reviews are always much appreciated, as is the constructive criticism!_**

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or the characters mentioned in this story. They belong to CBS/Donald Bellisario. This was written for entertainment purposes only. No personal profit is derived from this, nor is any copyright infringement intended.  
**

For over three months, she'd been held captive in a foreign land. She was interrogated, beaten, tortured. Everyday, she expected her life to end. And eventually, she made peace with that fact. Even if she died, she knew that they would know nothing. In that, she could take solace.

Her life was strictly controlled, even down to the smallest detail. When and if she could eat, sleep, use the bathroom... she had no influence over that. She felt so weak... so tired. There was no getting out of this.

And then that day came.

They forced a black bag over her head. She'd heard a muffled conversation in the adjacent room, but couldn't make anything out. Rough hands made her stand, and she staggered from the room, stumbling over her own feet. A door opened and she was forced to sit in a chair. Then, they removed the bag from her head...

And there he was. Tony. Sitting there in front of her, dirt and grime across his stunned face. He looked terrible. And McGee, lying on the floor behind her. Was he dead or alive? Why had they come? Was this their idea of a rescue mission?

Her heart broke at the thought of them both dying because of her. What fools they were, coming in on some crazy suicide mission. She was already responsible for the deaths of so many other people. And now, she was to be responsible for theirs.

Tony looked at her, still apparently in shock. She did not understand why he was so surprised to see her. Obviously they'd come out here for a reason, and she was pretty sure she knew that reason.

"So, how was your summer?" He asked.

"Out of everyone in the world who could have found me, it had to be you," she snapped. The hurt was evident on Tony's face, but she didn't care.

"You're welcome."

They spoke briefly, and then Saleem came back into the room. Ziva knew what was best to do. She had to die in order for Tony and McGee to live. So she told him everything that Tony and McGee had just told her. Tony looked horrified, and demanded that she remain quiet. As Saleem continued his interrogation, Tony began a typical rant about movies and himself. That selfish man. Why couldn't he see that they were about to die? Why was he acting so foolish?

"Remember I told you my boss is a sniper?"

Not even a second later, there was the crack of a rifle, and a bullet punched through the window in front of her and made its way into Saleem's head. He dropped to the ground, dead instantly. A small speck of light filtered into the room from the bullet hole in the window. And as Ziva stared at it, she couldn't help but to feel that everything was going to be Ok.

No. She knew everything was going to be Ok.


	13. Dark

**_A/N: I'm not sure how I feel about this drabble... it felt a little awkward to write. Hopefully it's Ok. Once again, thanks to everyone who's favorited/reviewed/alerted. It really means a lot to me._**

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or the characters, as they belong to CBS and Donald Bellisario. This is for entertainment purposes only. No personal profit is derived from this story, nor is any copyright infringement intended.  
**

The sun was high in the sky, casting light all around her. It warmed her skin, allowed her eyes to see. Though she knew it was just a simple reaction of hydrogen, she couldn't help but to be amazed by it. How could one simple thing have such an affect? It was absolutely brilliant.

For a moment, she wasn't sure where she was. She knew that her chest hurt. She knew that someone had a gun. And she knew that something major had just happened.

As she stared up at the sun, Kate attempted to reorient herself with the situation. Ok. She was on a roof... with Tony and Gibbs... and she'd just saved Gibbs life.

She squinted as she looked up at the bright object in the sky. Did people ever really get a chance to look at it in detail? Probably, not, seeing as it was so bright.

Tony and Gibbs helped hoist her up, and Kate drew her focus back to them. Gibbs gave her a look that she couldn't quite read.

"Protection detail's over, Kate."

"You did good."

"Wow... I thought I'd die before I ever heard a comp-"

Gunfire cracked through the air, and Kate heard a brief whizzing noise. Once more, the world turned upside down, and she saw the sun in all its glory.

And then, it was dark.


	14. Seeking Solace

_**A/N: Seeing as I've focused a lot on our four favorite agents, I decided it was time to branch out. Hopefully there will be more Abby one-shots to come! Please note that this one-shot contains spoilers for Haitus I and II.**_

**Disclaimer: Sadly, NCIS is still owned by CBS/Donald Bellisario, not me. I gain no profit from this story, nor is any copyright infringement intended.  
**

He was gone... left. Gibbs was gone. Abandoned them, the team, his family, for Mexico with Franks. No. There was no way this could be happening... no way! First he'd been blown up, then he'd lost his memory, and now he was leaving! There was no way! This had to be a dream!

Reaching up with one pale hand, Abby pinched herself, then winced as she looked at the bright red mark she'd just made. This was most certainly not a dream. Sighing, she flopped down on her stool, resting her chin in her hands. She reached up and pulled her hair ties out, her black hair cascading down. A tear worked its way down her cheek, smearing her make up.

She couldn't get it out of her head. It just kept replaying that one scene... how he walked over to Tony... handed him his badge and gun... gave him the team... how he told McGee he was a good agent... told Ziva that he owed her... quiet her own sobs one last time... kissed her cheek... walked away, without saying good-bye.

"_You'll do... It's your team now... Your a great agent, Tim...Don't let him tell you other wise... I owe you, Ziva... Semper Fi."_

Abby broke down, her shoulders shaking as she cried. She knew there was work to be done; Major Mas-Spec had told her he had results over an hour ago. But she just didn't care. She just couldn't do it. She felt so lost.

The doors to the lab slid open, and a tall man hesitantly walked in. He stopped when he saw the crying forensic scientist. No pigtails, no loud music... this wasn't right. Abby was never upset. In fact, the only time he'd ever seen her like this was when Kate died...

It didn't take a genius to understand why she was so upset. After all, he felt just as betrayed. What kind of team leader just walks out on their team? What kind of person abandons those who look to them for guidance? What person was that cruel, that cold, that selfish?

Well, he didn't say the second B stood for 'bastard' for no reason.

Taking a deep breath, the man quietly walked further into the lab, stopping behind Abby. He picked up her discarded hair ties and slid them on to his wrist. Carefully, so as to not startle her, he began combing her hair with his fingers, and eventually pulled half her hair into a pigtail. Then, he did the same to the other side. Abby looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. The man held out his hand.

"C'mere, Abbs."

Abby stood, wrapping her arms around the new Team Leader. He held her tight, making her feel safe. Gibbs may have left, but Tony was still here.

And now he was her rock.


	15. Break Away

**_A/N: Yes, the bombing of the Khobar Towers was a real incident, and I did some rudimentary research for this one-shot. Please note that what is written here is not my personal opinion of these incidents; they are both horrible tragedies and my heart goes out to all those affected by them. Once again, thanks to those who've reviewed/alerted/favorited. It makes my day to see that! :)_**

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, though I wish I did. Instead, CBS and Donald Bellisario own it. No profit is gained from this piece of fiction, nor is any copyright infringement intended.  
**

Franks had seen all the evidence... heard all the chatter. To any competent agent, it would be obvious that something big was coming. Hell, it was so blatant, even a Probie would be able to see that. It was staring them all in the face.

And yet, they ignored him. The Director, Sec Nav... every one ignored him. He showed them the evidence. He told them about the tanker truck that had been purchased and the plastic explosives that had been obtained. Franks gave them concrete proof that an attack was going to happen. And they ignored him! Those bastards ignored him!

Who were they to wave away his information? They hadn't done any of the dirty work. They hadn't listened to the chatter or seen the pictures. It was their fault. It could've been prevented, but no. They didn't want to listen to the little NCIS agent.

And when June 25th came, all hell broke loose. The Khobar Towers were attacked, just like he'd said they'd be. MTAC was filled with various agents, analysts and military officers, all stunned and horrified at what had just happened. Franks walked out, shaking his head in disgust. 19 US Servicemen dead and hundreds more wounded, all because they'd been too stubborn to listen to him. Served them right for ignoring his warnings.

As he tossed all his stuff into a cardboard box, Franks heard footsteps behind him. He looked up and saw the Probie looking at him, his ice blue eyes and blank facade offering no clue as to what he was thinking. Franks ignored him and continued to pack his stuff away. The sooner he was done with this, the sooner he'd be in Mexico. He'd already given Morrow his letter of resignation, tossing it on top of the various reports and evidence he was now looking at. Morrow had asked him to stay; despite his brusque nature, he was one of the best agents they had. He promised him that they wouldn't ignore him again... that they'd trust his opinion more often. Franks shook his head, silencing him with a rude, "hell no." The damage had already been done, the bridge long since burned. There was no way he was staying.

So, he found himself checking his drawers, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything. It wouldn't matter if he did; where he was going, he wouldn't need much of anything. Walking over to the Probie's desk, he unceremoniously dumped his weapon and badge. The Probie looked up at him and cocked an eyebrow. Franks just gave him a look that told him it was his responsibility now. He was done with all the bureaucratic bullshit.

He walked out of the bullpen, leaving the new Team Leader alone at his desk. He probably felt betrayed... overwhelmed with the new responsibility that had just been dumped on him, but Franks didn't care. There was a beach south of El Rosario that was calling his name. He'd be damned if he ever came back to this godforsaken place.

* * *

Five years later, Franks heard there was another attack, this time on US soil. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if anyone had tried to warn them... tried to argue their case just to get turned down. It didn't matter, though. What was done was done, and nothing anybody did could change it. So, he turned back to the scene before him. The sun was hot, the water warm, the beer cold, and he was content. He'd left that lifestyle a long time ago. NCIS could handle doing things without him. And maybe one day, if he ever got any sense knocked into him, that Probie he'd left in the bullpen would come join him.

For now, though, he'd wait. Mexico was nice and DC was hell. He enjoyed his company here, or lackthereof, and was in no rush to screw things up for him. Leaning back in his hammock some, Mike Franks took a long sip of his beer. Yep... things for him right now were just fine.


	16. Heaven

**_A/N: This one-shot contains spoilers for "Judgment Day pts 1&2." I've always kind of wondered what Gibbs was thinking as he drove to that crime scene, and this is what I came up with. Once again, thanks to everyone who's reviewed/favorited/alerted! :)_**

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. This work of fiction is merely for entertainment purposes only, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
**

Gibbs had never been one to ponder the reality of heaven and hell. He'd always been a man of the here and now. It had to be tangible for him to accept it. Facts, evidence, confessions... that was what his life was based on. His agents gave him the facts, no matter how cold they were. In Abby's hands, the evidence could never lie. And in his interrogation room, confessions were easily gained. This was what he believed in. This was his religion.

It had been a long time since he'd lost someone he was really close to. He hadn't really gotten the chance to think about Shannon and Kelly. His desire for revenge had blocked all the pain and grief out for most of the time. Thus, their death had been compartmentalized for the most part. Therefore, he'd merely accepted the fact that they were gone. He knew where they were. There was a nice little quiet spot in a cemetery with granite headstones bearing their names. It was shady, and on the anniversary of their deaths, he visited, just to make sure they were Ok.

Kate's death was somewhat similar. He'd been so busy trying to catch Ari that he hadn't really had time to comprehend the fact that she was dead. He knew she was dead; after all, she'd died right in front of him. Like Shannon and Kelly, he knew where she was buried as well. But he'd gotten so caught up in the hustle and bustle of work, that he just hadn't gotten a chance to really consider the fact that he'd just lost one of his agents. After all, Ziva David had come into the picture, and he'd had to deal with her, along with that crazy terrorist trying to kill his agents. Grieving just wasn't an option then.

As he drove through the desert, though, with no radio station available to him, Gibbs couldn't help but to start thinking. How had Jenny died? Obviously she'd been shot, but why? Why her, why then? Why didn't she call him... get his help? Why hadn't DiNozzo and David protected her like they were supposed to? And why was it her that had to die?

As he whipped into the parking lot of the old diner, Gibbs discovered that the crime scene had already been processed. So much for getting a chance to bury himself in his work. He heard Leon Vance talking, but frankly, he didn't give a damn about anything that man had to say. As Vance drove away, going with the bodies back to DC, Gibbs turned to his two agents. Obviously they felt guilty, but he really didn't care. After giving them their orders, he got back in his car and drove to another diner, where he found Mike Franks waiting for him. Franks explained everything to him... about the operation in Paris... how they'd been made... how the other agent had attempted to give them a code so they could save themselves.

Gibbs sat there and took it all in, trying to comprehend it all. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he leaned an elbow on the counter.

If there was a such thing as heaven and hell- and right now he certainly hoped there was- Gibbs hoped Jenny was in heaven. After saving his life, it was the least she deserved.


	17. Innocence

**_A/N: My apologies for not updating this in so long. I got swamped with school work, and unfortunately, I've got finals next week, so I probably won't get a chance to update anytime soon._**

**_This one-shot is just my take of a scene from "Silent Night" in Season 6. Contains spoilers._**

**_Once again, thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites and alerts. It means so much to mean that you guys do that. :)_**

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or the characters in this story. No profit is derived, nor is any copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**Snow was falling gently as Gibbs approached the memorial. It was the first snow of the year. How fitting that it should fall just before Christmas. In a vain effort to ward off the cold, he flicked the collar of his coat up, but only succeeded in dumping snow down his back. As he passed the Charger that DiNozzo and Ziva were sitting in, he nodded, letting them know he had everything under control.

The memorial was silent when he got to it. Truth be told, Gibbs didn't know of a time when it wasn't silent. Even in the hustle and bustle of DC, this place retained its solemness. A few yards away, he could see Quinn standing in front of the wall, staring at it. Slowly, Gibbs walked up next to the man. He put his hands in his pocket and sighed some, looking at the wall.

How strange it was, to look at a list of names and be forced to see yourself in it. As he stood there, he couldn't help but to just think about it for a moment. Deep in the back of his mind, he knew Tony and Ziva were probably wondering why he wasn't taking Quinn into custody, but he brushed the thought away. Perhaps the fact that a visitor could see their reflection was a way of reminding visitors that the people who were named on this wall were just like you. Sometimes he wondered if the designer of this memorial intentionally did that, or if it was just a coincidence. As he looked at the names, he couldn't help but to feel a sort of reverence for them. These people had made the ultimate sacrifice.

Shifting in his coat some, Gibbs returned to the task at hand.

"No matter how many times I come here, it still gets to me," he started. "You look at a name, and you have to look at a reflection of yourself. You _are_ among the fallen."

The man beside him started some, as if not expecting him to speak.

"Yeah. Difference is, you can leave. The names don't."

Gibbs knew this was the moment where he'd need to make his move... take Quinn into custody. Reaching into his jacket, he got ready to pull out his shield. As he moved, though, he took one last look at the wall. Briefly, Quinn's eyes met his. It was just for a second, but it was long enough.

Gibbs knew the old saying- that the eyes are the window to the soul. And in that moment, he agreed with whoever coined that phrase. As he looked into Quinn's eyes, he knew everything he needed to know. About him. He saw pain... torment... confusion. For a moment, he thought he saw anger, and possibly a little bit of fear.

But most importantly, he saw innocence.


	18. Drive

_**A/N: I hope everyone had a good holiday season! Once again, my apologies for not updating this sooner. This little piece is set in Season 3 with no spoilers at all. Once again, thank you to everyone who reviews. They really make my day, and I love to know what I can work on!!**_

_Disclaimer: Sadly, Santa didn't give me NCIS for Christmas, so I still don't own this show. That said, no copyright infringement is intended, nor is any profit derived from this story.  
_

It was a typical Monday morning in Washington D.C. Rush hour was just starting as cars merged on to the major highways and traffic jams began to build up. A certain cop sat in his cruiser, waiting to get the call from the station. His shift would be over in fifteen minutes, and he was ready to catch some shut-eye.

As he watched the traffic slow, and eventually stop, he noticed something odd. There was this one car that was rather far out, and it appeared to be driving strangely. As it got closer, the cop noticed that it was not on the road.

"What the hell...?"

The tiny red BMW Mini blew past his cruiser on the shoulder of the road, whipping between lanes. Swearing under his breath, the cop flipped the lights and sirens on his car and took off in pursuit while calling it into the station. A disgruntled sigh escape him. This was not how he planned on ending his shift. Whoever was driving the BMW didn't seem concerned that a cop was currently following them. They continued to whip in and out of traffic at speeds at least 20 miles above the speed limit.

The cop wasn't sure his cruiser could keep up with this car. After all, he was a relatively new cop, and therefore didn't have the nicest equipment at his disposal. He could feel the car shuddering beneath him as he pressed the accelerator down further.

"C'mon, baby," he muttered, patting the dashboard some. "Get me through this, and it's supreme gas from here on out."

After thirty minutes of pursuit, the BMW finally pulled over... in front of the naval yard. The cop pulled his cruiser over to the side of the road and got out of his car. Walking up to the window of the BMW, he reached out and knocked on it. The window rolled down, and a woman with olive skin and brown hair and eyes looked up at him.

"Is there a problem, Officer?" she asked, a hint of a foreign accent gracing her voice.

"License and registration, please."

The woman handed over the requested documents, as well as a NCIS badge, without any problems. Thus, the officer began the long process of writing out a ticket. When all was said and done, he'd cited a certain Mossad Liaison Officer Ziva David for speeding, reckless driving, reckless endangerment, driving on the shoulder, as well as several others he couldn't remember. Silently, he hoped she had enough money to pay the court fees and fines that were coming her way. Either that, or she'd better have one hell of a lawyer, because if she got one of the strict judges, there might be some jail-time coming her way.

As he gave the woman back her documents, as well as several tickets, the cop couldn't help but to shake his head.

"Woman, I've just got one last question for you- where the hell did you learn how to drive?"

The woman laughed before revving her engine some.

"Israel."


End file.
